


and with the dawn, what comes then?

by arendellesfirstwinter



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, no major character death but the main cast THINKS there's a major character death, snow sisters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:14:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22365466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arendellesfirstwinter/pseuds/arendellesfirstwinter
Summary: When the dam breaks, Arendelle faces massive destruction, and Anna has to return home without a sister.Elsa unfreezes in Ahtohallan to find that she’s still trapped, with no way of contacting the outside world.As Anna struggles to cope with grief and the sudden responsibilities of being queen of a ruined kingdom, Elsa struggles to break free from Ahtohallan and find her way back home.Or: AU where Arendelle floods and the ending gets a lot more complicated.
Relationships: Anna & Elsa (Disney), Anna/Kristoff (Disney)
Comments: 43
Kudos: 145





	1. Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big shout-out and thanks to [Counterpunch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Counterpunch/pseuds/Counterpunch) for giving me a second set of eyes to work with on this fic, for pointing me towards changes that improve the fic in ways I hadn't even considered, and in general for encouraging me and helping me get my Frozen writing back on track after all these years since the first movie.

“Our home,” Anna whispers. The words are drowned out by the cheers of the Northuldran people and the Arendellian soldiers, breaking their awed silence at last as the mist continues to dissipate for the first time in almost thirty-five years. She hears shouts of joy and incredulity, some filled with long lost recognition and others with stunned wonder. She hears the continued pounding of reindeer hooves as the herd runs in gleeful circles beneath the open sky. And, in the distance, she hears the tumble and echoing roar of the river.

“Our home,” she repeats. The last few hours are finally catching up to her, something she notices absentmindedly as she stumbles.

Kristoff wraps his arms around her as she begins to collapse, her knees giving way before she realizes, and he gently lowers them both to the ground. “I know.” He is strong and warm and _there_ , oh at least he’s _here_ , and not, not - 

Anna catches a sob in her throat, feels tears pricking at her eyes, and she stares and stares and stares as the water fades into the distance. And though she can’t hear it, she can imagine, the crashing and creaking and breaking of her home, and Kristoff’s, and her people’s, lost in a wave she herself set loose. 

And she thinks about all they’re going to lose, and then she thinks about all they’ve already lost, and she turns her face into Kristoff’s shirt. Grabbing fistfuls of the cloth, she buries her head against his chest, and he pulls her tighter.

Hidden amidst the continued sounds of celebration, she whimpers. 

_Elsa_.

\---

Deep within a glacier, a statue springs to life and drops to a solid, icy floor.

\---

Grand Pabbie knows, even before his troll peers, exactly what’s to come.

He feels the echoing thunder, feels the rumbles beneath his feet that reverberate through his stony form. And he bows his mossy head and steps toward the cliff to observe the end of an era, a tumultuous disaster sure to go down in Arendelle’s history books.

As he sets his sights on the distant horizon and the deceptively calm river, he can sense, more than see, the presence of his fellow trolls and the citizens of Arendelle as they too start to become aware of the impending change. 

“The water is being strange, ja?” It’s a tall fellow that speaks, a man that towers over everyone else and twiddles his fingers in front of his stomach. 

“Indeed,” Grand Pabbie murmurs. “An act of great magic has just been undone, and a wrong of the past has been righted.”

The tall man blinks, then glances down to Bulda, standing at Grand Pabbie’s flank. “Is he always this, ah, cryptic?”

Bulda chuckles. “Oh you have no idea, he can be - oh. Oh _no_.” She trails off, mouth agape, and around her, Grand Pabbie can hear more and more citizens and trolls coming to watch as the wave of water comes crashing at last through the far away canyon, towering so high it nearly crests the cliffs on either edge.

It’s magnificent, in its own way, Grand Pabbie thinks to himself as he watches in weary resignation. The mighty flood roars into the fjord, dwarfing the evergreens that stand in its path and swallowing the calm flow of the fjord in its powerful rush. He can almost imagine the spray of the sea, and he can certainly smell its salty tang on the wind as river and ocean meet.

The wave dwindles only minisculely as it extends its reach into the inlet, and for a brief moment, Grand Pabbie feels the rising hope of Arendelle’s people.

And then, with a sound to put thunder to shame, the wave smashes into the shore, into the outer walls, into the town, into the lingering hopes of the people watching from the cliff. Rolling and racing through the streets, wood and stone and steel alike are flung with wild abandon by the unstoppable flood. Houses buckle and barns bend and flags are ripped with force from their posts. He sees the crocus of Arendelle riding atop the flow, almost leading the wave to the final obstacle on its path: the castle.

There are cries and wails behind him, nearly inaudible, and even he feels a deep sadness grow within his heart as he watches the flood slam into the castle walls, pouring into the courtyard and through the open gates. The spire at the center bows under the water’s pressure, and then slowly, almost gently, it snaps, cutting a swath through the water and under as debris from the rest of the once proud port city hurtles against the castle’s walls.

As suddenly as the flood comes, it recedes.

And then there is silence.

The water fades, and only destruction remains.

The forests between the river and the fjord: gone. Their trees are uprooted, stones overturned, dirt far flung and wildlife displaced.

The riverbanks are torn, muddied and muddled, the undergrowth now caught on rocks halfway up the cliffside.

And Arendelle:

The city’s in shambles. Nearly half the houses are swept down the road, furniture and belongings and livelihoods are scattered to the wind, the cobblestone streets are half undone, and its people are left shivering and shellshocked at the top of a cliff.

But, Grand Pabbie notes something spectacular with a degree of wonder, even as a chorus of disbelief and grief begins to sound around him:

Not all is lost. There are still houses miraculously standing, some that had been in the direct path of the wave and others that were too high up the mountainside. He sees gardens that remained safe, and he sees barns on the outskirts that felt nothing more than a passing spray. He sees that for every gutted street, there’s one that’s still clinging to structure, that for every lamppost ripped from the ground there’s another that’s only bent. 

And, like a beacon of hope, he sees Arendelle castle. Its spire is gone, toppled into the west wing, the ice decorations that previously adorned the battlements are melted away (from the sheer force of the wave, he has no doubt), and half its shingles are lost in the depths of the sea, but the gates are still open, the courtyard is still whole, and the bridge that connects the castle to its people is standing strong.

Magic always has a message, and it always has a price. Grand Pabbie knows this is a steep cost, but he bows his head and sends silent thanks to the spirits that this is all that was asked, and no more. After all, there was no loss of life in this ordeal.

Arendelle has suffered a great setback, but Grand Pabbie knows that, with the return of its queen and princess, it will rebuild stronger than ever.

\---

In contrast to everything else that’s been upended in the past twenty-four hours, Kristoff’s presence is a blessing. His arms are as solid as the rocks he was raised by, and like his stalwart stony family, he is unbending and unmoving. Even as Anna’s world falls to pieces around her, she buries her head tighter into the wool of his shirt and clings to him with every fiber of her being, and he anchors her with soft words whispered in her ear and a warm, unrelenting hold.

Even as he continues to murmur, dispelling the oppression of silence for just a little while longer, she can feel a drop of water, then two, then three, land on the top of her head. She sobs, and there’s a small comfort in knowing she’s not the only one crying for the ones they’ve lost.

Part of her wants to comfort him in return, to be there for him just as he is for her, but she knows that Kristoff (sweet, wonderful Kristoff) doesn’t want that, that in a way, he’s holding himself together _by_ holding her tighter. Plus, Anna doubts she’s able to speak anyway. Every breath she takes is halted by another catch in her throat.

Distantly, beneath the pounding of the reindeers’ hooves, she begins to notice the noises of celebration abating. Her senses are dulled with grief, but the faint stir of muffled conversation reaches her ears, and then the crunch of gravel as someone with hesitating steps begins to approach.

Anna sniffs, loud and ugly, and she pulls away from Kristoff’s chest and blinks bleary eyes to see Lieutenant Mattias a few paces away. His face is long with weariness, and she remembers what she told him at the bridge. When she spoke words of her nightmares aloud.

_“My sister gave her life for the truth. Please, before we lose anyone else.”_

Behind him, she sees the solemn faces of Arendelle’s lost guards, and beyond them, she sees the confused and worried looks from her new Northuldra friends. Ryder and Honeymaren wear matching expressions: brows furrowed, mouths just slightly ajar, shoulders tense, almost as if in anticipation for the catch to their freedom they know is coming.

Yelana, however, bears a wizened sorrow, borne of many years of witnessing tragedy, and a devastating familiarity of what she’s witnessing now in Anna and Kristoff’s embrace and damp faces. Anna meets her eyes, an unspoken confirmation in her tears, and Yelana bows her head.

It’s Mattias who speaks first, clearing his throat and straightening his collar and his back. “Your Highness,” he begins haltingly. “At the dam. You - you said something. About Her Majesty. About your sister.” He rubs the back of his neck, pausing. His mouth opens, then closes once more.

Bracing herself on Kristoff’s shoulders, Anna closes her eyes and rises from the ground. She raises her chin, plants her feet, and balls her fists at her side. She takes a breath, in and out, and steels herself to face the truth aloud.

Her eyes are still closed when she feels Kristoff gently take one of her hands in his, and she relaxes her fist and lets him intertwine his fingers with hers. Kristoff untwists his legs with a small groan, his grip warm and firm even as he hauls himself to his feet. He positions himself just slightly to her left and one pace behind, letting her take the lead, but he brings her hand up to his lips for a quick kiss.

Anna relaxes into a smile - small, near imperceptible, but a smile nonetheless - and opens her eyes.

Then the smile falls, and her nerves turn to steel.

“My sister,” she begins, and her voice is thick with grief, “is - it’s exactly what I said at the dam, lieutenant. My sister gave her life for the truth.”

There are gasps from the Northuldra, and Anna’s touched to hear what sounds like genuine sorrow in their whispers. The soldiers of Arendelle merely bow their heads, but a silence settles over the clearing.

With a start, Anna looks to her side and realizes even the reindeer have slowed their majestic celebratory romp, and as the sound of hoofbeats dies into echoes, it feels as if the whole forest is watching her.

“How can you be certain?” Mattias asks, wringing his hands in front of him in a way that reminds Anna of Elsa. “What exactly transpired after you two - wait, three. Is the snowman - ?”

“Connected to her,” Anna murmurs. Kristoff squeezes her hand. “I think - I think where she goes, he follows.” She swallows back tears that are on the verge of flowing freely once more, and she wipes the back of her hand across her nose in a manner most unbecoming of her royal station. 

“I don’t - I don’t know everything. My sister, she - she - she sent Olaf and me away. To keep us safe while she journeyed to Ahtohallan. I - “ Anna hiccups and sways on her feet, a wave of exhaustion hitting her with every word she utters. Kristoff pulls her in the tiniest bit, just enough for her to use him to stabilize her balance and gather her courage.

Anna bows her head. “I don’t know what happened at Ahtohallan. All I know is that she found the truth, and sent a message to Olaf and me. And then, a moment later, Olaf started flurrying. And he - he sensed - he could tell that, somehow, she wasn’t okay. And then - “ her voice catches, “ - and then neither was he.”

Turning her head, Anna buries her face against Kristoff once more as the ripples of the news she’d delivered spread amongst everyone present. The voices of the people stay low and hushed, as if speaking normally will disrespect Elsa’s memory, but even turned away, Anna hears snippets of the discussions. 

One in particular reaches her ears and causes her to stiffen. It’s the voice of a young woman - Honeymaren, Anna thinks? Mournful and somber, Honeymaren sings softly, “ _Dive down deep into her sound, but not too far or you’ll be drowned_.”

_Drowned_.

Elsa, face contorted, gasping for air, hands clawed as she desperately fights to reach the surface and air, turning bluer and bluer, bluer than the walls of her palace, bluer than the ice on her favorite dress, limbs trembling in pain, vision clouding -  
Anna sobs, loud and harsh, and as horrible images of water fill her mind, a thought crashes over her like the spray of the ocean. 

Arendelle. Her people. Their home.

And she wants to do nothing more than continue crying for the loss that she knows has occurred for all her citizens, but she thinks on what Elsa would want. And Elsa would want to ensure that her people were safe, and that plans were drawn into action to help immediately.

Still using Kristoff for support, Anna states, “Kristoff, Sven, and I need to get back to Arendelle as soon as possible to assess damages. Are there any who can help?”

“We can,” Honeymaren and Ryder say unanimously, stepping forward from the crowd of Northuldra.

Yelana goes with them and bows her head once more to Anna. “We are eternally grateful for everything that you, Kristoff, your sister, and Olaf have done for us. Anna, you and Elsa embody the true spirit of the Northuldra, and the heart of your mother. Thank you for releasing us from the mist and back into the world, and know that we are here to assist in whatever you may require.”

“Just a horse for Anna,” Kristoff says, speaking for the first time. “I can ride Sven back, but we’ll need a day’s rations, most likely. We’ll be on our way after that.”

“No way.” Ryder crosses his arms as Kristoff blinks. “Honeymaren and I will _take_ you back in our sled. You can both sleep in the back. Ah-ah-ah!” Ryder raises a hand to silence the protest at the tip of Anna’s tongue. “When’s the last time either of you slept?”

Anna grimaces, and so does Kristoff.

Honeymaren nods. “That’s what we thought. Please, let us handle the journey. You can sleep in the sled undisturbed. And the same goes for the Arendelle guards?” She looks to Yelana, who signals her approval. “And the same goes for the Arendelle guards. Eret, Siru, Helve, can you help?”

The three Northuldra named give a quick verbal agreement, and the Arendelle guards smile bashfully in thanks, the ones Anna recognizes as having helped her at the dam looking particularly worn out.

“Then I suppose it’s time to go.” Anna keeps her hand in Kristoff’s as she begins to move towards Honeymaren and Ryder. “Lieutenant Mattias, please have your guards pack their things as quickly as possible and head out when you’re all ready. If it’s okay, Kristoff, Sven, and I will leave now.”

Mattias bows, low and deep. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

Anna’s foot freezes midstep. Her chest constricts, and a puff of air leaves her in a whoosh. She stumbles, only saved from falling flat on her face by Kristoff’s quick reflexes. Her breaths are short and fast, and she closes her eyes and counts to three, and loosens the tension in her shoulders.

“Your Highness,” Anna corrects quietly.

Mattias’ brows furrow. “I’m sorry, but it’s - “

“Not yet.” Anna draws herself up to her full height and fixes Mattias with a pointed look. “Address me as Your Highness,” she commands. “Or Anna. Nothing else. Not now.” She falters, and repeats, “Not yet.”

Mattias nods in sympathy, and bows again. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

“Follow us,” Ryder says, stepping forward to flank Kristoff just as Honeymaren flanks Anna. 

Thoughts in a whirl, Anna barely notices the trek through the forest, nor the sunshine that filters through the trees or the blue sky overhead. She barely notices as they breach the edge of the woods and into the Northuldra camp once more, and she barely notices as Kristoff climbs into the sled and gives her his hands to help her aboard.

As Honeymaren and Ryder tie Sven’s harness to the back of the sled and hitch their own reindeer to the front, Anna barely notices as she falls backwards into the pile of furs and blankets bundled for her and Kristoff.

And she barely notices as she closes her eyes, and sleeps.

\---

The night sky is breathtaking. 

Honeymaren knows her gaze should be only on the road in front of her, but she can’t help it. Every other second she catches her eyes wandering upwards, up to the _sky_.

She’s heard stories, of course, all her life. But the stories have clearly never done it justice, because _this_ is - is awe-inspiring, is momentous, is miraculous.

She thinks of the scarves her mother used to make, dyed dark blue with a wildflower that grew in bushes on the edge of the mist’s border - blåveis, she thinks, is what her mother called it, a term coined by Arendellians that stuck with the Northuldra. (Funny, she thinks, how language still connected their peoples even whilst tensions and magic drove them apart.)

Those scarves are the closest Honeymaren thinks she’s ever seen to what she’s witnessing now, a woven canvas of indigo dotted with pure light. The color is dark and dense, nothing like the blue-grey glow of the nighttime mists, or the lighter grey of what little of the sun’s light could filter through the magical clouds.

And, more than anything else, the sky is just so _big_. Its expansive reach extends far past the edge of the forest and far above the tips of the mountains, and every time Honeymaren glances upwards, she’s stunned all over again.

In all her life, she’s never seen the sky, and if she’s being honest with herself, she’s never expected to. Sure, the stories sounded mythical and enthralling when told by her elders in the village, but it was a fun fantasy, no more.

Now it’s a _fantasy_ no more, because it’s, well, _there_. Above her head, and no matter how many times she looks away to check that Ryder’s sleeping form isn’t jostled off the sled’s front seat, it’s still above her when she glances back up.

Honeymaren can’t reach it, can’t touch it, but it’s every bit as real as her goofy, snoring brother, and she’s positive that she’ll spend the rest of her life in gratitude to the young woman also sleeping soundly in the back of the sled.

To Anna, and to - 

Gripping the reins tighter in her fists, Honeymaren sneaks another peek at Ryder and reaches one hand out to stroke his cheek. He grumbles something in his sleep and turns over, and she smiles softly.

Honeymaren rolls her shoulders and straightens her spine, and wishes that the air wasn’t so tinged with melancholy, that two sets of siblings were riding together in this sled. She’s glad that Anna has the chance to sleep at least, and she finds herself surprised at how much a part of her is mourning the opportunity to hold another nighttime conversation with the enigmatic snow queen of Arendelle.

With one more glance to Ryder, to reassure herself more than anything, Honeymaren takes to admiring the night sky yet again.

\---

A larger-than-average bump in the road is what stirs Anna from slumber at last. Beneath her eyelids, she can sense daylight, and as she cracks her eyes open, she slams them shut again instantly. 

Too bright, too early.

Anna yawns, and she tries again, this time blinking blearily in the pinks and purples of dawn’s first light. Did she sleep through the entire night…?

Stretching out worn limbs, Anna sits up with a groan, her body jostling back and forth on fur blankets as she does. She smacks her lips and combs her fingers through her hair (which, miraculously, seems to have held its shape more than normal), and a fond smile crosses her face as she looks to Kristoff, snoring ungracefully beside her. 

_Elsa always says we’re the perfect pair_ , she thinks warmly.

And then a cold shiver crawls up her spine, and unfamiliar ice runs through her veins, and Anna grits her teeth and exhales slowly and bunches her hands into fists around mud-stained skirts. 

She counts to ten, something she’s seen - _someone else_ do to alleviate anxiety, and she relaxes her hands and reaches her left one out to gently grasp a few strands of Kristoff’s locks. He’s in need of a wash, and his hair reflects as much, but it’s real and present and _him_ , and Anna revels in the touch, the way it grounds her.

Until the sled hits another nasty bump, and she accidentally jerks to the side and takes a few threads of Kristoff’s hair with her. 

“ _Yowch_!” He bolts awake with a start and immediately cringes at the sunlight.

Anna grimaces, and shrugs sheepishly. “Sorry,” she murmurs.

Rubbing his eyes, Kristoff glowers.

Anna leans forward and pulls him into a feather-light kiss, and it lasts only a second but he melts instantly.

“You both awake?” It’s Ryder asking, half-turned in the front seat to check on the two of them in the sled. He’s got a grin on him that implies he’s well aware of the answer to his question, and also of what harm Anna may or may not have just committed against her boyfriend, but there’s a hesitation hovering behind his smile. 

Anna sobers at the thought, and then pushes it out of her mind once more.

There will be all the time in the world to deal with _that_ , but for now, Arendelle is her top priority.

“Yes,” Kristoff responds at last to Ryder.

“It’s for the best.” This time, it’s Honeymaren who speaks, though she keeps her eyes focused on the road ahead of them, the reins on the reindeer held firmly in her grasp. “Because we saw a sign awhile back that said we weren’t far. I think by now we’re probably very close.”

Anna and Kristoff share a bewildered look. 

Craning her head, Anna surveys the road and the land around them, and with a start, she recognizes the cliffside path they’re on in an instant. She recognizes the rocky mountainside that stretches to the sky on her left, and she recognizes the sheer drop several paces from the road to her right, and she recognizes the river mouth that’s calmly pouring water into the fjord, as if less than a day ago it hadn’t unleashed a tidal wave.

And as they round the bend and crest the hill they’ve been steadily climbing, Anna recognizes the distant slopes of the North Mountain and the glassy waters of the fjord.

What she doesn’t recognize is, well, everything else.

She doesn’t recognize the debris-strewn streets, the newly barren plots of land, the collapsed castle spire, and the masts of sunken ships that dot the harbor like postings of ill omens.

She doesn’t recognize the shivering in Kristoff’s arms, the tautness of his jaw, and the look of aghast horror in his wide eyes.

And, Anna wonders, if she were to look into those eyes, deep enough to see her reflection: after everything that’s happened in the past day, would she even recognize herself?

\---

“It’s the princess!”

“Princess Anna! Princess Anna!”

“What do we do? Our homes are gone!”

“Wait, where's - ?”

Anna stands before them, her cloak muddy, her palms scraped raw from rock climbing, her hair a tangled mess, her cheeks stained with drying tears, and she holds up a tired hand without a word.

The crowd falls silent instantly, the last couple of speakers quickly hushed by their peers.

There’s a brief flicker of awe in Ryder’s eyes, and Honeymaren thinks hers likely convey the same. 

The way Anna presents herself, open and honest and raw, is reminiscent of all the traits Honeymaren’s come to admire in Yelana, and in her village’s elders, and even in Mattias, to a degree, when their interactions strayed towards civility over hostility (which they did, as odd as it may sound, because they certainly had many years to get to know one another). 

And the way, just with the wave of her hand, that Anna’s calmed the crowd and commanded it to silence, well - Honeymaren has little experience with royalty, but she’s never seen a person so naturally regal.

(Which is a lie, actually, because of course there _is_ one who possessed the same air of poise and grace, whose soft-spoken words were conveyed with casual authority and almost contradictory warmth. But Honeymaren had the chance to speak with her only over the course of one single night, and as large as that impression of Elsa was, Honeymaren’s starting to realize it was the barest of introductions, no more.)

Honeymaren hopes she’ll have the chance for many future interactions with Anna, at the very least, with this long-lost daughter of two worlds.

Though, with her chin raised and gaze flinted with steel, Anna looks far from lost. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply, then steps forward onto a nearby boulder, one that Anna somehow knows is _not_ one of the miniature Earth giants Honeymaren’s spotted rolling and waddling among the townsfolk.

“People of Arendelle,” Anna begins. A slight breeze stirs her cloak and carries her words over those gathered on the mountainside. “That’s - that’s still what we are. The people of Arendelle. Yesterday wasn’t an easy day, not for any one of us here. Surveying the destruction is an immediate priority, but none of us need a detailed report to know that homes were lost.” She raises her chin. “We owe a debt of gratitude to the trolls and our neighbors that no _lives_ were lost in Arendelle too. The city can be rebuilt - our loved ones cannot.”

A woman’s voice pipes up from the listening crowd as Anna pauses. Honeymaren wonders if Anna will protest the interruption, but Anna just cranes her head and nods. “What if it happens again?” The woman presses forward, wringing her hands in front of her. “How do you know if we can _ever_ return?”

“Arendelle is safe.” Anna pinches the bridge of her nose and exhales. “And I _know_ I’ve a history of rushed decisions, but this isn’t - this isn’t one of them. It’s - “

There’s a chuckle from many of the townsfolk listening, to Honeymaren’s surprise, and she blinks, puzzled, as she hears quiet mentions of a southern prince. Anna’s eyes seem to narrow in consternation, but she holds her tongue. Honeymaren nods in admiration at Anna’s quiet acceptance of the perceived joke, even if the humor appears to be at her own expense.

“But it’s safe to return to Arendelle,” Anna continues, strained. The crowd hushes. “I _know_ this. I know this, because we found the answers we sought.”

And with dozens and dozens and dozens of people listening with rapt attention, Anna begins her tale. She speaks of how the spirits were angered, how they drove everyone out of Arendelle’s port and up onto the mountainside, and of how she and her sister left to find answers and a solution. She speaks of how she and her sister became trapped in the mist of the Enchanted Forest, and of how she and her sister were unable to leave through that same mist, of how this made sending messages to the outside impossible. She speaks of the long-lost Arendellian guard unit, the mention of which sends ripples of recognition through the crowd, of how they're just half a day's journey behind herself, and she speaks of the Northuldra, nodding towards Honeymaren and Ryder and thanking them outright for their continued aid.

And she speaks, Honeymaren notes, with the word ‘ _we_ ’, but never expands on ‘ _who_ ’.

Finally, Anna reaches the portion of her story that brings her to yesterday morning, to the events Honeymaren witnessed only from a distance. To the Earth giants and the dam and the repayment of a debt over thirty years owed.

Anna lowers herself on the rock, heedless of her already ruined leggings, kneels, and bows, bringing her forehead to the ground.

The air is thick with tension, but not a single soul makes a sound.

Anna’s next words are clear and direct and a message for everyone before her: “With every fiber of my being, I offer you my humblest apologies.”

A beat, then two, and the tension snaps.

There’s gasps and shouts and exclamations and swears; the previous stillness of the mountainside now buzzes with hundreds of disbelieving voices. Honeymaren glances uncertainly at Ryder, but he looks as uncomfortable as she feels, and he steps away from the Arendellians and takes her hand in his.

The two watch as Kristoff and a female troll (as Honeymaren’s heard them be referred to now) begin to yell over the crowd, calling for everyone’s attention once more. It takes a good several tries, and Honeymaren’s about to ask Ryder if he thinks they should join in and help as well when the mountain falls quiet once more.

It’s not Anna who speaks next, however: it’s another troll, covered in moss and a long grassy cloak and several strings of yellow crystals. “People of Arendelle,” he begins in the same manner as Anna. Where Anna’s words held a quiet confidence, the troll’s words are spoken with a rumbling wisdom. He’s too short to be seen by most of the crowd, but it’s as if the stones themselves amplify his speech, and even the residual grumbles fall quiet.

“With the awakening of the spirits, Arendelle was doomed from the outset. Destruction was inevitable, and not a soul here has escaped unscathed, but the wave we witnessed yesterday was a blessing. Hear me out - “ Grand Pabbie’s echoes grow louder over the indistinct chatter that’s sprouted once more “ - and heed what I say. When the spirits are angry, there is no stopping them. Had the dam not been destroyed, Arendelle would have been beset not only by water, but by earth, air, and fire alike. _Nothing_ would be left standing after such an onslaught. _Nothing_ would be spared. That we can still see much of Arendelle standing is proof enough of the impact of Princess Anna’s deed.

“Not only did she save much of Arendelle, but she also broke the mist barrier of the Enchanted Forest, and freed hundreds of trapped people, many of whom were once your neighbors and friends, to return home at long last. Arendelle owes its brave princess a debt of gratitude, for she was faced with an impossible choice, and she nearly gave her life to preserve what she could of your home. _Her_ home.”

The elder troll rocks back on his feet and closes his eyes, then offers his hand to a still kneeling Anna. Slowly, she rises from the rock, and holds her head high as whispers of unrest still scatter the winds. 

One civilian hesitantly shouts, “So what do we do now?”

As if a second dam has broken, Honeymaren and Ryder watch with wide eyes as the people surge forward around Anna.

“Where do we live?”

“How do we rebuild?”

“Are there enough supplies for the coming winter?”

“Why do we care that you freed these Northuldra people? What if they're a threat?” 

Honeymaren flinches at that last one, and balls her fists, and she notes Anna’s jaw set resolutely. 

Anna opens her mouth to begin addressing concerns when the one question that everyone’s been too afraid to ask cuts through the air like a sword:

“Princess Anna, where’s Queen Elsa?”

And immediately after, a young child chirps in confusion, “Didn’t Olaf go with you?”

Honeymaren holds her breath and watches Anna stiffen, the princess’s back as straight as an arrow about to fly.

Anna’s eyes are heavy with grief and a sorrow that looks wrong on one so young, and the honesty that falls from her lips transforms a nightmare into painful reality:

“Queen Elsa is dead.”

Not a person utters a word, not a bird utters a cry, and not a single leaf rustles in the lilting breeze. 

Honeymaren thinks a part of Anna has died as well, with this first utterance of Elsa’s name since the dam, and the first time Anna’s confronted yesterday’s tragedy in blunt words.

“She died to find the truth about our history, the truth that led me to take the actions I did to protect us, and to pay the reparations of the past we owed.”

The young child in the front steps forward, and her voice is small and scared. “What about Olaf?”

Anna kneels for the second time this day, but this time is different. She reaches the girl’s eye level, holds out a hand, and runs a gentle pinky over the girl’s nose. “Olaf,” she murmurs, “has always been a part of Elsa. I think, in the end, he’ll always be with her.”

The girl whimpers. “Olaf is my friend.” 

Then she sniffs, and wipes an arm across her nose, and Anna scoops her into a hug and whispers, “I know, I know. He was my friend too.”

And as if all the energy is drained from Anna at last, when she stands up once more, she stumbles, and Kristoff catches her. He whispers in her ear, and points to two older Arendellians that Anna seems to recognize. Anna nods, her whole body slumping. 

“Let me help,” Honeymaren says, stepping forward and grabbing Anna’s arm. She slings Anna’s arm around her shoulders as Anna flashes her a tiny but grateful smile.

Stepping to Kristoff’s side as he and the female troll start to call for attention and to plan the first stage of returning to Arendelle, Ryder offers a soft wink at Honeymaren and lends Kristoff his voice as additional help.

Kristoff nods, motions for Ryder to stand next to him, and takes charge in fielding questions and turning focus onto him and away from Anna.

Honeymaren keeps a tight grip on Anna’s arm, noting Anna’s stumbling steps and bleary eyes, and when they at last reach the older man and woman Kristoff had directed them toward, Honeymaren lets go.

Anna’s eyes well up, and she can only get out a choked, “Kai. Gerda. She’s _gone_ ,” before the Arendellians are wrapping her in an enormous hug, tears staining their own cheeks.

Sighing, Honeymaren glances up at the wide blue sky, then out at the people on the mountainside, then down to the fjord and Arendelle’s ruined port city, and then finally back to Anna, the soon-to-be queen who’s given half her world to save her home. 

With one last reassurance that Anna’s in good hands, Honeymaren steps away to help field the questions of a strange people who once took so much from the Northuldra, and have now lost so much in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, it's great to finally get this thing started and posted! I've been working on this since about a month after I first saw Frozen 2; it was an idea that sorta stuck with me after watching the movie the first time, and I'm excited to actually be writing it out at last. I have no idea what the end length of this fic will be, or how many chapters to expect, but I've got a very concrete arc on where I want this fic and its characters to go, and exactly how I want this all to end. 
> 
> A note on the tags of this fic: what I have posted is likely not complete, and I'll keep tags updated as I continue the story. But what I do have tagged, I have tagged for a reason! For instance, if you're here for Kristanna: it WILL have a large focus in this fic! Ultimately, I wanted this first chapter to stay very Anna-centric (with the establishment as well that the Northuldra are going to be playing a part in this fic), but Kristoff will have a very definite role to play in this story, as will Elsa. (In fact, you'll start to see a lot of both of them just in the next chapter alone, along with more Anna.) 
> 
> Snow sisters (platonic Elsa and Anna) and Kristanna will probably be the only two relationships displayed prominently in the fic. (I super love Elsamaren, and there will be some minor hints to that, but ultimately the timing and setting of this fic mean any actual Elsamaren content wouldn't make sense.)
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope to see you all in the next chapter! I can also be found on tumblr as [arendellesfirstwinter](https://arendellesfirstwinter.tumblr.com/) if you've got any questions, or just want to chat about Frozen!


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better late than never, right? So as you can see, I can't promise any sort of regular update times; I got a little bit stumped on a couple sections in this chapter, but even though it took a little while, here's chapter two at last! Thank you to everyone for your patience, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> And as always, thanks to [Counterpunch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Counterpunch/works) for being a second set of eyes and helping to look over everything!

The first thought to cross Elsa’s mind after thawing is: _So this is what cold feels like._

She doesn’t like it.

It’s biting and prickly and _cold_. She wonders if snow feels any different, softer maybe, or even if _her_ ice is different, at least compared to _this_.

Her body shakes without her willing it, and though it’s a familiar sensation (she’s immune to cold, not trembling panic and overwhelming fear), it’s a wholly different experience than anything she’s ever felt before.

Her second thought, immediately after the first, is:

_Anna lied to me._

Because - because Elsa _feels_ this; she feels _everything_.

And if _she_ feels everything, then _so did Anna_.

Even as warmth returns to Elsa’s limbs, as she breathes harsh breaths and braces herself on the icy cavern floor with shaking palms, all she replays in her mind, over and over, is the distinctive horror of her darkest childhood wishes coming to fruition, of ice creeping in her veins and turning her _cold_ , inside and outside until she’s nothing but a harmless frozen statue, no different from the decorations she used to place around the palace courtyard.

But those thoughts have been fleeting in the years since her coronation, and all she thinks instead, over and over in wide-eyed horror, is: _Anna lied_.

Three years ago, Anna smiled a wide, buck-tooth grin, and shook her head and said, “Really, I don’t remember anything! One second I was running to stop Hans, the next you were hugging me for the first time in forever.”

Anna felt _this_. Anna felt this because of _Elsa_.

Elsa presses her forehead to the cavern floor and exhales shakily and bites her lip and closes her eyes. Slow heat is still pulsing through her body, along with sheer exhaustion, but her mind is sharp, and while a younger part of her wants to take this revelation and grip it tight and wallow in shame and disgust, the more current part of her is in quiet awe.

Because Anna saved her yet again, didn’t she?

By all accounts, Elsa should still be a piece of Ahtohallan’s frosty decor, but here she is, living and breathing and warm, and her breath begins to puff in laughter, delirious joy leaving her with shaking shoulders and a brilliantly proud smile.

Anna did it.

Anna got Elsa’s final message, and she saved everyone in the Enchanted Forest, and she saved Arendelle, and she saved _Elsa_.

Rolling over on the icy floor, Elsa rests the back of her head on the ground and lays herself flat. And then she laughs again, long and loud and relieved, and her heart swells with love and pride for the bravest person in the world, the woman Elsa’s so, so lucky to call her sister.

And then Elsa inhales slowly, narrows her eyes, and begins to stand, because it’s about time that she go home.

\---

Home is, well, it’s still-standing. But it’s changed. And Kristoff’s really not quite sure how to process the entire thing.

Earlier this day, after Anna stepped away to be with Kai and Gerda, Kristoff found himself bombarded from all sides, all angles, with questions of this and that and how and what and where and why and _what’s next for us_ , and he, well, he answered every one of them.

Kind of. Sort of. Probably not.

Kristoff’s not Elsa. He can’t take control of a crowd with a quiet, regal voice, and suddenly have everyone hooked on his every word. He can't dispense advice that at least _appears_ wise, nor can he offer comfort with nothing but a soft glance. And no matter how much Elsa insisted that what she did was _hard_ , that it took everything in her and more just to muster the courage to lead, all Kristoff remembers is that she sure didn’t make it _seem_ that way.

He was gonna ask her, eventually, some day, to teach him. How to step up, how to be a leader, how to be - how to be a _prince_. (Not a king. Didn’t need her to teach him how to be a king, because that whole idea was preposterous, because _Elsa_ was queen, and Elsa was _always_ going to be around.)

Kristoff’s not Elsa, and he’s _definitely_ not Anna.

Elsa made it all _seem_ so easy, but for Anna it just _is_.

Even now, even after all that’s happened and everything they have to deal with and push through and move past, Anna’s just _strong_. She’s resolute and steadfast and an absolute natural at speaking with the citizens of her kingdom; at, well, at being a princess. Probably at being a queen.

(She’ll have too much time in the future to learn _that_. Hell, she’ll master it, Kristoff has no doubts. She’ll master it even without teachers.)

So, with two sisters as his models, Kristoff answered the crowd’s questions to the best of his ability, and when the crowd finally abates, he takes a moment to catch his breath.

A hand falls on his shoulder, and he looks up to see Ryder nodding his head. “You did good,” Ryder says, exhaustion drawing weary lines across his cheeks. “A, uh, a proper royal fellow. Are you a king?”

Kristoff sputters. “No, no, I’m not - what? No. Not a king, no kings, Arendelle doesn’t have a king right now.” Even as he speaks, he reaches a hand into the pockets of his coat and feels the ring he’s chosen. Grimacing, he pats the ring and leaves it snugly in place. “I don’t think I’ve ever _thought_ about being a king. I don’t think I’m, uh, made of the right stuff.”

“Right stuff?” Ryder wrinkles his nose. “Made of?”

“Like, kingly. Stuff. I wouldn’t be - I wouldn’t be very good. Just look at the mess I made of things right here, yeah?” Kristoff gestures to the dispersed crowd, at the families huddled and sullen, at the occasional frustrated glares sent his way by a handful of citizens with nowhere else to aim their anger.

Ryder arches an eyebrow. “...Okay.”

“Look,” Kristoff says quietly, “just. I don’t care about any of that. Right now, I just want to do whatever I can to help Anna. However I can.” He checks the ring once more and wishes Elsa were here to fix everything with the wave of her hands.

He wishes Elsa were here to magically fix Arendelle. He wishes Elsa were here to take charge of all the citizens. He wishes Elsa were here to tell him and everyone else exactly what needed to be done and how, and to give warm hugs to everyone grieving her death.

He looks teary-eyed at Anna, who’s quietly speaking to Kai and Gerda and Honeymaren with newly dried cheeks.

Kristoff wishes Elsa were here because dammit, he misses his sister too.

But no amount of wishing and wanting will stop the wasting of daylight, or the duties that need doing.

So Kristoff pats Ryder on his shoulder in return, mumbles a quick thank you, and together the two of them get to work on rounding up the citizens, on helping everyone take what meager belongings they’d grabbed in the evacuation. Only a few days have passed, but it’s not so simple as to up and leave, not when there’s supplies to be packed away that’ll be sorely needed in the coming months: food, blankets, clothing.

Dawn blends into midday as the hours blur together, and by the time everyone’s ready to go at last, ready to face the hard cobblestones and harder truths, there’s a distant echoing that brings Kristoff and Anna to a halt at the start of the crowd.

They meet each other’s eyes, and Kristoff sees his own wariness in hers. But this doesn’t sound like any sudden, life-changing flood; rather, it sounds like the hoofbeats of reindeer and horses intermingled. He watches the tension release from Anna’s shoulders as Mattias and his guards appear around the bend. Yelana’s traveling by Mattias’ side, and several other Northuldra are woven in the spaces between the guards.

Shock ripples through the crowd at the appearance of those strange and distantly familiar, and after a beat, several cries of recognition and ecstacy peal through the mountain air. Members of the crowd surge forward and rush out with open arms, and many of the guards dismount and do the same. Others are openly weeping, and families reunite with lost ones from decades past in bone-tight hugs and tears shed for a very different reason than those of yesterday: _joy_.

Kristoff can’t help but smile softly at the reunions, and he catches Ryder and Honeymaren at the corner of his vision, the two of them grinning and slipping through the throngs of people to have their own, far more mundane reunion with Yelana and others.

Turning, he looks to Anna, and his smile falters. She’s wearing one of her own, but it’s small, and tight, and her arms are wrapped around herself in a way that achingly reminds Kristoff of Elsa.

She seems...small.

Stepping forward, Kristoff bends down and presses a kiss to her cheek, and she startles. “Wha - ?”

Kristoff reaches for her hand, pulling it gently from Anna’s side. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Anna blinks. “Wait, what?”

“The way you’ve stepped up, with all of this. And even now - watching them all reunite must be hard. I know it’s hard for _me_ , but I just - I want to remind you that I’m here. For you.” He gently tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know Elsa and Olaf are proud.”

And in an instant, Anna’s pulled away, and Kristoff’s left standing in bemusement as Anna stiffens. “Our priority is relocating everyone back into Arendelle safely and assessing damages.”

“That’s - yeah, I know, I wasn’t trying to _not_ say that, but - “

“Come on, let’s talk to Mattias and start moving everyone out.”

“Anna, hey, wait.” Kristoff reaches for her shoulder as she starts to leave, and she pauses, letting him hold her back. “I know there’s a lot to do right now, there’s a lot _we_ have to do, but seeing everyone else get to be together again with their loved ones, well.” His voice lowers. “You’re allowed to grieve, Anna. It’s okay to be sad.”

“I’m _not_ \- “ Anna averts her eyes. There’s a distinctive tightening in her words that’s not entirely what Kristoff’s expecting. He can’t place what it is exactly, what it means, but it sounds _different_ than the choked sorrow of yesterday. “Let’s just go.” And she brushes his hand away and leaves without another word.

Kristoff sighs, and checks the ring in his pocket, and follows.

And after the reunions are done, and all of Arendelle’s displaced citizens are at last packed and ready to go, the crowd sets off at a slow, plodding pace back down the mountainside to the wreckage of their home port.

The first homes they pass, the dwellings of the solitary who prefer life away from the hustle and bustle of the town, are untouched, as high and distant as they are. A few citizens split off as each recognizes their property and returns to assess what damages there are, if any.

Slowly, the long train of people winds its way downwards, and soon enough, the telltale signs of destruction start to pop up, small but present. It begins with tilted fences and upturned crops, with bent trees and freshly churned dirt. More people branch off, making their way home, but there’s still a vast contingent that remains unchanged.

And then the ground beneath their feet changes from rough-hewn stone and dirt to uneven cobblestone, and a heaviness settles on the crowd as they enter the town proper for the first time since being forcibly driven out less than a week prior.

Their entrance is greeted with silence, apart from the whistle of the wind and the far-off splash of waves meeting shore. Kristoff finds it eerie, the way no one speaks. As if no one has any idea of what words to say when faced with, well, _this_. A harsh truth that becomes stark reality up close.

Arendelle isn’t entirely demolished, but it’s not far off. There’s furniture and weatherboards and stray belongings scattering the ground. Kristoff nearly trips over a torn window shutter as his wide eyes scan the broken buildings, some homes leaning at precarious angles and others with top floors missing completely. The homes that still retain their slanted roofs are missing, if they’re lucky, around twenty shingles; if they’re not lucky, they’re missing many, many more.

Dull footsteps reverberate on the stone streets, coupled with the clang of hoofbeats and the occasional crack as someone doesn’t watch the ground in front of them and steps straight through debris. There’s a smell of warped wood and rotting fish (from those swept along unceremoniously and dumped far from the harbor), the caw of circling seabirds, and the crawling feel of lingering dampness in the air.

And then at last, Kristoff and Anna and Mattias and many others unsure of where else to go reach the castle bridge and gates, and Kristoff looks upon the place he’s called home for the past three years and stands still.

Because just like the rest of the town they walked through, the castle is in a bad way, heavy damages to the courtyard and bridge and the west wing especially, what with the toppled spire having fallen straight down.

But, even with this initial glance, Kristoff feels hope spark in his chest at the fact that everything’s still mostly standing, that he hasn’t lost his home, that Anna hasn’t lost hers, and that even those who _have_ lost theirs will have a place to go. That Arendelle castle will be able to stand strong as a beacon of shelter and safety.

Turning, Kristoff looks up to the rest of the town, at the destruction but also at the stubborn structures that refused to bow, at the trees whose roots still cling to the dirt and at the stones that held firm. It’s a sign that, though much is lost, not _all_ is.

There’s a _lot_ of work to be done, though, and Kristoff has no doubt that the very first thing Anna will do upon entering the castle is begin delegating work crews and figuring out what needs doing and how. He can already see it on her face, in the delicate pinch of her brow and narrowed, flickering eye. Anna’s thoughts are no doubt racing with plans on where to start, and how to best help everyone; her quiet, concentrated air reminds him of Elsa, but this brand of determination is, and has always been, distinctly Anna.

Arendelle’s lost one monarch, a loss that will surely be felt for years to come, but they’re lucky to have another just as brave and fearless to spearhead repairing the kingdom. And hey, Kristoff thinks, if anyone knows about fixer-uppers, it’s Anna.

\---

It’s time that Elsa go home, but there’s still one more thing to cross off her list before she does. She groans a bit as she clambers to her feet, wincing as she feels the stretch and pull of forming bruises on her shins and calves. For a brief second, confusion flickers in her mind, until memories that seem days ago (but can really only have been hours, right?) return to her in a rush, and she winces as she distinctly recalls jumping from some rather dubious heights. She hadn’t felt a thing at the time, as focused as she was on seeking the truth of the past, but, well, this _particular_ past has decided to haunt her.

A small groan escapes her lips, and she combs her fingers through her hair and brushes a few flecks of ice off of her gown. Then, Elsa lifts her hand, closes her eyes, and lets out a soft breath. She feels a distant pulse in her veins, a familiar surge, and she calls her magic forth.

With a flourish, Elsa sends the magic bursting from her palm, an icy message that will deliver itself straight to Anna, to reassure Anna that everything’s okay, she did it, and Elsa’s on her way home.

Only -

Elsa opens her eyes, frowning. Rather than a telltale trail of twinkling ice from the burst of magic, there’s a mere handful of snowflakes, no higher than eye-level, lazily drifting to the cavern floor.

Elsa breathes out, then in, and scrunches her nose and feels her magic surge through her once more, and she watches as a glow congeals in her palm. There’s a small flash of light, and a few more snowflakes spark in the air and spiral downwards.

Blinking, Elsa closes her hand into a fist. She opens it again and wiggles her fingers, one by one. A familiar tingle crawls beneath her skin, but as she draws her power forth once more, and is once more met with failure, she bites her lip and rocks back on her heels.

Well. This is unexpected.

Her brows are furrowed as she flexes both hands now, open and shut and open and shut. With a deep breath, Elsa extends both arms and wills snow and ice to pour forth from her palms, just as they have always done. She’s the queen of ice and snow, and though her subjects have disobeyed, they have never failed to appear.

But what should have conjured a mighty blizzard with ease barely sparks a listless flurry.

Elsa staggers back and nearly falls to the ground once more, her limbs weak and trembling. As if she’s been sapped of her abilities, her strengths, her magic.

She concentrates once more, holding a hand outwards, and focuses everything in her to create a fearsome icy blast. A maelstrom stirs beneath her skin, and she bites her lip and pulls her elbow back, and with everything she has in her, she snaps her arm in front of her and sends a compact icy bolt into the blackness of the cavern around her.

Sinking to her knees, Elsa pants, her breaths ragged. She feels as if she’s climbed the North Mountain in a matter of seconds, but there’s a bubbling triumph in her chest at, finally, a success.

A _shhing_ sound, almost like that of a sword being drawn from its sheath, reverberates through the cavern, and Elsa’s frozen in place as the bolt she’d just sent forth comes rocketing back towards her. The center misses her face by scant millimeters, and the edge of it grazes her cheek like a blade, slicing a shallow line across pale skin.

The bolt disappears into the blackness once more, and Elsa raises a trembling hand to touch her cheek, pulling it away to stare at the red staining the pads of her fingers.

She listens for signs of the bolt returning yet again, but after moments of silence, she stands up on shaking knees, and officially takes stock of her surroundings for the first time.

When Elsa had arrived, following the frosty figure of her grandfather, she’d leapt down into a forest of frozen trees and slow-moving figures that reenacted the memories and the history of her family, and both of her peoples.

Now, she’s in an empty cavern. The floor is made of ice, but as she peers around, she sees the glittering reflection of sharp edges, and realizes in slowly growing horror that, in every direction surrounding her, she can take maybe twenty paces before running into a sheer drop-off. Beyond that, there’s nothing but inky darkness on all sides, extending for who knows how far, and for who knows how deep.

But there’s still light, a low blue that pulses from the ice itself (perhaps remnants of Ahtohallan’s memory magic), and a faint, but shining square of white from high, high out of Elsa’s reach: the exit to the tunnel Elsa had revealed when following Runeard, and from which she’d jumped down from to land in this unwelcoming cavern.

That tunnel exit eclipses all other thoughts in Elsa’s mind with a singular word: _hope_. She just has to build herself a set of stairs up to the tunnel exit, and she’s free to go home.

However, her magic thuds dully and distantly in her body, feeling remote and hard to reach, and Elsa fears that, for all that _arriving_ at Ahtohallan was certainly no walk in the castle courtyard, _leaving_ Ahtohallan will prove a far more difficult task still.

\---

As Kristoff had predicted, Anna steps into the role of leader flawlessly.

Everyone gathers in the Great Hall instead of the audience chamber, just inside the main doors that lead to the castle courtyard, to allow room for the mass amounts of attending citizens. And, well, okay, it’s not _everyone_ in Arendelle, but it doesn’t feel far off either. There seems to be at least one person from every family, ranging from the blacksmith wives Ada and Tuva to two of the goat-herding Westens, from single representatives to entire, forlorn families who’ve arrived later than others after realizing they have nowhere else to go.

The room is the largest in the castle, but it feels small and crammed, packed wall to wall with desperate and confused townsfolk unsure of what to do next.

And so, they look now to Anna.

Anna’s not alone at the front of the room, and she barely meets the heights of half the crowd even standing upon the raised dais, but with her chin raised and eyes sparked and shoulders back, all eyes naturally fall on her.

To her right is Mattias, who’s fallen into command as if he’d never left, something Kristoff and Anna are grateful for. Next to Mattias is the current captain of the guard, Captain Sorenson, a younger man who’s served Elsa faithfully for two years and holds hazy memories of sneaking into the courtyard to watch a much younger Mattias teach his peers.

A few steps behind Anna are Kai and Gerda, both with backs ramrod straight and trained gazes facing forward without the slightest waver. Behind them are the two throne chairs, one knocked over entirely but the other still standing. Both remain unoccupied and untouched.

And to Anna’s left stands Kristoff himself. His large form towers over Anna’s, but he can’t help but feel small and awed in her presence. He hopes he’s able to comfort Anna in some tiny way, but for one of the first times since he’s met her, he finds her entirely unreadable.

So the meeting begins.

It goes as most town meetings do, with Arendelle’s leaders fending questions left and right, trying to answer everything in a way to be both truthful and satisfying. When the noise gets too loud, a shout from the guards and a clang of swords on shields brings order back quickly, and care is given in allowing equal opportunities for all to share their worries and woes.

The first order of business, on even footing with assessing damages, is sorting out lodging, and where those who lost their homes can live temporarily. Many Arendellians with salvaged homes immediately offer to host friends and neighbors, but the main location of refuge is quickly and easily decided to be the castle itself. It’s the most obvious and logical option, what with the multitude of rooms available.

The precise locations can’t be decided until the castle itself is fully assessed, for safety’s sake more than anything else, but early glances show that the upper floors suffered far less destruction, and that large rooms on the lower floors, such as the Great Hall, may be damp and damaged, but not dangerous. Bedding must be retrieved from the castle stores and furniture must be pushed aside, up against the walls, but there’s room to spare.

Kristoff swells with pride as Anna offers _all_ rooms in the castle with no hesitation, no matter the station each room was initially made to host. He blinks in surprise as she mentions that she and Kristoff have space for a family or two in their own private bedroom, but finds himself nodding in agreement.

The crowd whispers at the particular proclamation, and though Kristoff and Anna are more than willing to share all they have, this idea is shut down promptly by citizens who murmur that, if it’s okay, they prefer some sense of normalcy be kept, and they’d rather have their leaders retain a small bit of privacy in thanks for their immediate action and protection.

And on this line of thought, another voice echoes from the back with a sentiment that swells in agreement through the crowd: Queen Elsa’s room is to remain untouched.

Kristoff notes the instant stiffening in Anna’s shoulders, a reaction that’s appearing to become almost instinctual every time Elsa’s name is brought up. He places a hand on her, but she shrugs it off so casually and rapidly that he feels as if he’s been stung. She keeps her eyes facing forward, and he’s unable to glimpse her face, but she keeps any form of betraying emotion out of her voice as she calls, “If that’s what everyone wishes, then that’s what we’ll do.”

Anna bows her head, and Kristoff tugs at his collar and shuffles his feet and wishes he could do something to comfort her.

But then she moves on, and the meeting resumes once more, this time to the next priority: food. Everything in the castle stores, whatever can be salvaged, will be as open to everyone as the castle itself.

Then the talks move to assigning crews, for assessment, for rebuilding, for relocating. For cooking and cleaning and stocking, and for planning ahead to the harsh winter and the logistics of the coming months.

When the light of dusk starts to filter through the castle windows, some intact and others shattered, the people of Arendelle begin to disperse. The castle staff, being the most familiar with the building, set to work assigning quarters to displaced families and seeking bedding, and Sorenson and Mattias fall in with their guards to provide extra hands as Kai and Gerda step up to fully lead the process.

Kristoff knows Anna’s as willing to help as he is, but when she approaches with questions on where they’d like her assigned, she’s brushed off entirely, with a stern reminder from Kai that she’s had very little rest the past two days, and no real time to process and grieve. Again, Kristoff watches the way Anna tenses up the moment Kai mentions Elsa and Olaf, and when she slumps and exits to explore the castle corridors, he’s quick to follow.

The wreckage extends well into the first floor of the castle, something that Kristoff’s already expected, but the noise of the Arendelle crowd fades fast as the heavy doors shut behind him, rusty hinges creaking.

Stepping lightly through the halls, Kristoff’s taken aback by how sudden eerie silence falls around him, and he hurries his pace to catch up with Anna just ahead. Her head is drooped, exhaustion plain as day written throughout her posture now that the pressure to perform to expectations is gone.

“Anna…” Her name is wielded gently on his tongue, but the silence is shattered.

She rolls her shoulders back, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and turns to greet Kristoff with a plastered smile. He blinks, stunned, as he realizes she’s performing for _him_ , too.

“There’s a lot of rooms here we can still work with,” she starts, gesturing to the doors around her, her gaze following her hands. “I know, I know, we’re supposed to rest, but I still want to get an idea for what we’ve got to work with, you know?”

Kristoff moves forward.

“Obviously, there’s a ton of rebuilding, but I think as long as we can do some, like, cursory checks for any sort of, I don’t know, dangerous things? We should be fine. Just make sure there’s no mold or rot all over the place, and then bam, we’ve doubled the space for any families in need.” She taps her chin and looks in the distance as she rambles. “There’s the upper floors to be looked at too, which I know Gerda said we should wait until tomorrow for, just in case of warped floorboards, or whatever, but I mean, _our_ room is upstairs anyway, so we might as well check things out a bit. Oh no, the library! I wonder if the hidden room is okay - ”

“Stop.”

Anna trails off. She looks back down the hallway, then sighs, moving her gaze to the floor. “I'll rest, I _promise_. It’s just - “

Kristoff raises a hand under Anna’s chin and softly, but forcefully, moves her face until she’s level with him. Except she looks to the side, to the ceiling, to the floor; anywhere but at Kristoff.

“Anna,” he breathes. She shifts uncomfortably under his piercing gaze. Kristoff can read her like an open book, and while she was briefly enigmatic during her speech on the dais, she’s back to the Anna he knows and loves, who wears her heart on her sleeve.

So he knows, from her furtive glances to anywhere but at him, to her wavering smile and stalwart refusal to let him in, that she’s _hiding something_.

“Why won’t you talk about them?”

Anna freezes, and yanks her face away.

“Earlier, when Kai mentioned Elsa and Olaf, and even before then, back on the cliffside - why won’t you talk about them?”

“I - I don’t - “ Anna’s jaw opens and shuts, and she starts to say something before clamping the thought down.

Kristoff exhales. “You’re pushing things away, just like Elsa used to.”

Anna’s hands clench and unclench at her side.

“I know that there’s all this responsibility suddenly put on you, but you know that there’s no one Elsa trusts - _trusted_ more, no one she’d rather have lead Arendelle. But she would also want you to be _sad_ , to be allowed to _mourn_ , to not forget that it’s important to help _yourself_.” He wants to hold her, itches to pull her into his arms, but despite all the best intentions in his words, Anna seems to be pulling away even further.

Bowing her head, Anna sniffs. “You’re right, Kristoff,” she says softly, “and I just - I’ve been pushing it all away, I know that, but there’s so much work to be done.” Kristoff frowns as, despite her agreement with his words, she still won’t meet his eyes. “But of course I miss them, of course it hurts even just standing here, in this hallway, and not hearing Olaf laughing in the distance. It _hurts_ knowing that he won’t ever show me a new book he’s read, or tell me a cool new fact he’s learned from who-knows-where.” She starts to turn completely away. “Look, I appreciate the thought, and I love you so, so much, but I just need time, and I just need to keep looking forward right now, and that means focusing on what’s best for Arendelle.”

“And not what’s best for you?” Kristoff watches Anna start to move away, watches whatever she’s hiding stay curled inside her. “Anna,” he calls after she's taken just a few steps, “Anna, why won’t you talk about Elsa?”

Anna balls her fists and runs, far and fast down the corridor and up the stairs at the end of the hall.

Kristoff watches, hopeless and confused, his own grief warring in his chest with this sinking helplessness at Anna hiding something from him for the first time since they’ve met. He rights a fallen chair, sinks heavily into its ocean-soaked cushion, and drops his head in his hands.

\---

Anna reaches the door in the upstairs hallway that leads to her and Kristoff’s shared bedroom, and she collapses against it. Her head thumps against the door, and her back slides down until she’s sitting on the floor, leaning against the hard wood, knees bent.

There’s a part of Anna - a large part, actually - that hates herself in this moment for doing the thing she’s despised all her life: slamming a door in a loved one’s face.

But Kristoff, he’s just - he’s just _Kristoff_ , and she loves him with her whole entire heart but he’s too damn astute, and she was hoping, just this once, that she could put up a facade he couldn’t see through, that she’d be allowed to handle these swelling emotions on her _own_ , and then bottle them up and throw them away because she _hates_ feeling this way, hates _herself_ for feeling this way.

Groaning, Anna runs her hands through her hair and thumps her head back against the door, and tries to think of anything else.

She tries to think of what tomorrow will bring, of what she can do personally to aid in the reconstruction of Arendelle, of everything that will be needed of her as the princess ( _just_ the princess). The scope of what’s needed towers above her head, responsibilities that threaten to ~~drown~~ _overwhelm_ her, and it’s moments like these that she wishes she had Olaf to cut the tension, to crack a joke and offer a warm hug. She feels tears welling at her eyes at the thought that she’ll never have him by her side again, and her fingers curl against empty air instead of a twiggy arm.

Anna _is_ grieving, despite how things appear to Kristoff. She grieves Olaf with every fiber of her being, misses him with every inch of her and more. The memory of him flurrying away stabs through her chest, but as much as she aches, she’s grateful she had the chance to be with him, to say goodbye. That he stayed by her side until the very end.

So of course she’s sad. Of course she’s hurting, of course she’s mourning.

She’s just also something else, and right as that emotion starts to bubble in her, she stands abruptly and brushes off her clothes and makes her way down the hall. A quick glance behind her shows that Kristoff has yet to follow, and she knows she’s going to owe him a major apology soon, but for now, she focuses on the task at hand.

The second floor is in much better shape than the first. There’s still consistent damage, many doors torn off hinges and haphazardly scattered furniture and clothing and decorations, but the wave looks to have hit its highest crest when breaking upon the castle itself. The walls bear the markings of just how high the water reached before being funneled down the corridors, a good sign for the floors to come. Her breath hitches as she remembers the portrait gallery, and her childhood companions of Joan and the like, but that’s another wing of the castle, and as such, a task for another time.

She takes small steps, careful of any debris on the floor, and it’d be such a shock to her system, seeing her childhood home in chaotic disarray, if she weren’t already so numbed by the past few days' events. Pulling out a bit of flint from her pocket, she reaches up to light the candles in the brass sconces on the walls, grateful that, though any freely standing candles on dressers are soaked, these elevated ones just barely escaped the water’s wrath with their height and glass cases.

Tucking the flint back in her pocket, she takes out one lit candle and continues to make her way down the hall, knowing she’ll need the flame’s light soon enough as dusk dwindles the sun. She resumes her surveying, walking cautiously and keeping a constant eye on the floor at her feet, and before long, she’s doubled back, paying little attention to the rooms around her, exhaustion overtaking her and wanting nothing more than her own bed after so long.

And so Anna finds herself face to face with the door of Elsa’s childhood bedroom.

She stares at the blue floral pattern in front of her, at the familiar lines she’s traced a thousand times, at the imprints she’s sure her knuckles left years ago, at the fact that, though other doors are askew, this one is _still shut_.

With trembling hands, Anna sets the candle down on a nearby cabinet.

And then, that emotion that Anna’s been fighting so hard to push down the past couple of days rises in her chest and sends burning fire through her veins.

Anna _erupts_.

A scream of pure, unbridled _rage_ tears from her throat, and she kicks the door with all her might. The door rattles as her boot bounces off, and she screams again and kicks again, and again, and again and again and again. She slaps her open palms against this _stupid_ door, this _stupid fucking door_ that’s shut her out nearly her whole life, and she screams again.

With a groan, the door’s hinges snap, and Anna almost falls forward as the door collapses, exposing the room Elsa hid inside, the room Elsa never let Anna into, the room that separated the sisters with a barrier that once seemed so strong, a barrier that proved to be so flimsy Anna could tear it down with her bare hands.

A strangled yell rips through her throat as she slams her foot into the door, feeling the wood splinter. Then she whirls around to face the room itself, breathing heavily, and when she sees a bit of cloth sticking from a dresser drawer, she races forward and yanks the drawer open.

She’s met with gloves, still neatly tucked away after all these years.

So Anna grabs them in her fist, runs to the window, pulls her arm back, and throws them outside with all her might. It doesn’t add much momentum, but it’s enough to send the gloves floating down to the ocean below, carried on a soft breeze.

And then she snarls and turns to attack the door once more, and everything it represents, only to see a startled Kristoff standing in the doorframe. She pauses, panting, her chest heaving up and down, another scream dying in her throat.

“You want to know why I won’t talk about Elsa?” Anna asks through gritted teeth. “You want to know why I can’t mourn Elsa?”

Kristoff nods, his features softening, and Anna closes her eyes.

“I _am_ sad,” she forces out. “Of _course_ I’m sad, of _course_ I miss Elsa every single second that she’s not here, of _course_ I’m sad that she’s dead, but she’s dead because she went on some fool’s errand and acted like an _idiot_ and she’s _dead_ , Kristoff!” Anna’s voice rises as she speaks, until the last words are spat out in volume equal to her earlier screams.

“And I’m _pissed_ , because she _left me behind_!” The room echoes with her shouts. “Do you know - do you know how she left? Do you know what she _did_? She _SHUT ME OUT_. We were supposed to _GO TOGETHER._ We were supposed to _STAY TOGETHER_. But instead, she just _whoosh_ \- “ Anna gestures her palms in towards her chest, then shoves them outwards - “and made some sort of magic ice boat, and sent me and Olaf away, and that’s _it_. She didn’t even say _goodbye_ , and now I’m _never going to see her again_.” She gulps in air, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. “She _didn’t even say goodbye_ , and that was _it_ , and - and - and _I_ didn’t get to say goodbye either, and - and... _I_ didn’t get to say goodbye either.”

Anna angrily rubs her eyes and jabs her finger at the floor, punctuating each of her next words with a jab. “She. Shut. Me. Out. _She. Shut. Me. Out_.” She stomps her foot and kicks at that stupid door. “She said that she couldn’t lose me, those were her last words to me, but what if - what if I can’t lose _her_ , she didn’t even _think_ of that, and now she’s _gone_ , and I don’t even know _how_. She - she probably - “ Anna hiccups and wipes her nose with the heel of her palm. “She probably _drowned_ , just like Mama and Papa did, and now they’re all _gone_ , I’ve lost my _entire family_ , and it’s just like the first time except now _everyone’s gone_.”

Shakily breathing in and out, Anna’s voice becomes choked, and she raises her hands over and over to her face to frantically wipe away the tears streaming down her cheeks. “So of course I’m sad, of course I’m allowed to _be_ sad, I _know_ that, but I’m also so mad. I’m so so _mad_ , and I don’t - I don’t want to be, but Elsa’s left me alone _again_ , and I want to mourn her but how can I when I’m so _angry_?”

Anna pulls at her hair and shuts her eyes and lets out a sob of relief as Kristoff’s arms encircle her. Her voice is small and hoarse when she speaks again. “I have to bury my family alone _again_. And just like before, I don’t - I don’t even have anything to _bury_.” His arms tighten around her, and he rests his chin on the top of her head as she wraps herself around him in return, clinging to the one lifeline she has left.

“I didn’t want to shut you out,” she mumbles, clutching his shirt, “I never want to shut you out, but I - I’m _mad_ , and I feel _guilty_ that I’m mad, and I don’t - I can’t be left alone _again_ , I just - if I didn’t have you, I don’t - at least I have _you_.”

Anna leans into him as he brings the both of them to the floor, supporting her weight on his knees and keeping her held tight to his chest. “We only had three years,” Anna whispers. “We were finally together and then we only had three years.”

Burying her face against Kristoff, Anna breathes.

“ _I don’t know what to do_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's chapter two! Again, thanks so much for bearing with me as I took my sweet time writing this out, but while I won't make any promises, my goal is to make sure the next chapter is out WITHIN a month, at the very least, instead of a full month and a half later. 
> 
> Lots of exposition this chapter, but I really wanted to delve into the consequences of the flood and actual issues Arendelle would face in such a devastating situation. Thankfully though, there's also lots of fun (for me, at least) character scenes too. Getting into some good old fashioned breakdowns and all that.
> 
> To all those who commented: please know that I see each and everyone one of you, and I love all of you so, so much. I don't tend to reply to comments mostly because I never know what to say other than a big old THANK YOU, but I'm gonna try fixing that for this chapter and in the future, and just know that I reread every single one multiple times and grin like an idiot each and every time.
> 
> Anyway, as always, thanks for reading, and I hope to see you all in the next chapter! I can also be found on tumblr as [arendellesfirstwinter](https://arendellesfirstwinter.tumblr.com/) if you've got any questions, or just want to chat about Frozen! (Or want to check out any SUPER old fics, back from when I was posting not long after the first movie's release. I've yet to upload any of those to ao3, so there's a pretty decent backlog of them on my tumblr.)


	3. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo - I'm simply not gonna spitball a timeframe for updates any more, because clearly I cannot be trusted. But at long last, here's chapter three, which is also proof that yes, I am still always chipping away at this thing, if at an obnoxiously slow pace. I can't say I have any excuses that aren't either "video games" or "anime", but in slight fairness, the world got REAL weird since the last time I updated.
> 
> As always, big thanks to [counterpunch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Counterpunch/pseuds/Counterpunch) who one, is always a fantastic beta reader for me, and two, is also willing to scold me to get my tail in gear and WRITE.

Iduna hears a crash from the kitchen, followed shortly by a low groan and a panicked “Anna?!”

She hikes up her dress and sprints down the hall, running so fast she feels as if her dear old spirit friend is gusting through her hair. A few brown strands sprout free from her elaborate bun, but she pays them no mind as she skids to a halt in front of the open kitchen doorway.

And then she lets out a breath, rolls her eyes, and begins to chuckle.

Anna and Elsa are both equally covered in krumkake crumbs. There’s a fallen stool to the side, and Anna’s laying sprawled out like she’s making a snow angel, limbs askew. Elsa’s kneeling above Anna, frantic worried lines across her face, her dress wrinkled, and her hair tousled.

“Anna, Anna, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault, I - “

“ _Worth it_!” Anna exclaims, pumping tiny fists in the air before shoving what looks like a pile of mush into her mouth. “Stho worfth ith! Mmmm _mmmm_!”

Elsa still frets above her a moment more, pressing her own delicate, small hands on Anna’s head, feeling for bumps and bruises.

Swallowing, Anna whines, “Elsa, I’m _fine_.”

Elsa bites her lip and continues to press her fingers around Anna’s scalp before being swatted away. “Thank you for catching me,” Elsa murmurs.

“Well, _duh_!” Anna sits up suddenly and thumps a surprised Elsa on the back. “Sisters hafta protect each other! Or was it princesses? Princess sisters?”

“I think sisters sounds the most correct,” Iduna chimes in, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed in front of her. She fights to hide a smile as her two daughters scramble to stand up and look as innocent as possible, despite the rather damning evidence of the mess surrounding them.

“Ummmm, we were, um, we were just - “

“We were con-duck-ting a kitchen inspection.” Elsa nods and stands to her full height, which has the potential to be a daunting pose if only she reached higher than Iduna’s waist.

“A _what_?” Anna whispers loudly.

“ _Shhhh_.” Elsa nudges Anna with her foot.

Anna nods rapidly. “Yes, that.”

“I see.” Iduna bends down, reaches forward, and uses her thumb to wipe off a dollop of white cream from Anna’s cheek. “And what results did your kitchen inspection yield?”

“That everything is in great shape.”

“And great taste!”

“ _Not helping_ ,” Elsa hisses, kicking Anna a little bit harder this time. “Great shape, but as you can see, everything is - ahem - not up to usual clean-ness standards.”

“Ah yes, I can see how the cleanliness standards might not be met today,” Iduna muses, tapping a finger to her chin and fighting to hide the obvious twinkle in her eye as she surveys the mess of the kitchen, from the upturned stool to the splatters of cream on the cabinet doors to the sprinkling of powdered sugar across the counter. (Not even counting the most damning evidence of a sheet of krumkakes laid out with a rather blatant empty spot.) “Does that conclude your inspection? No other mishaps to report?”

“Nope, that’s it, let’s go Elsa, got lots of important things to doooo!” Anna bolts out the door, ducking past Iduna and bouncing impatiently in the hall. “Let’s _go_ , Elsa!”

Iduna glances behind her and marvels at how unfortunately alike Anna is to when Iduna was the same age. Destined to get in trouble and determined to not get caught in it. She makes a note to have a talk with her girls about _honesty_ sometime soon, but thankfully, Anna’s lies are more transparent than most.

Elsa softly says, “I’ll catch up, Anna, I promise! Meet you there!”

“Okay!” And Anna races off down the halls, footsteps thundering so loud Iduna could swear there was enough noise to make anyone expect _five_ children, not one.

“Mama, I - “ Elsa bites her lip, and Iduna turns her full attention to her.

Crouching on one knee, heedless of the mess on the floor, Iduna studies the crown princess in front of her. Elsa’s gaze is held fast to the floor, and Iduna holds her own tongue, knowing that, given time, Elsa will explain exactly what’s bothering her. (Iduna’s grateful that Elsa is more prone to honesty than her sister, even if they’re both equal instigators in mischief. But she knows that, even at this early age, Elsa is far less of an open book than Anna, and she fears that one day, if Elsa chooses, no one will be able to read her at all.)

Breathing slowly, Elsa looks up and clenches her hands in front of her. “Mama, can we check on Anna later? I - I let her fall. Earlier.”

Iduna blinks. “What do you mean?”

“You saw us - I mean, I think you did. Anna was on the ground, and that’s because I was climbing on the stool and - promise not tell, okay - we were taking some krumkake, and she was holding the stool but then I lost my balance and fell, and she caught me, so I fell on _her_ instead. It’s my fault if she gets hurt.” As Elsa speaks, her voice grows tighter and tighter, and tears well in her eyes.

“Oh, Elsa,” Iduna murmurs. She cups Elsa’s cheek in her hand and brushes the tears away with her thumbs. “Oh Elsa, that’s not your fault. It was an accident. What’s important is that I saw you immediately check over your sister to make sure she was okay.” She pulls Elsa into a hug. “Anna chose to try and catch you because she loves you; would you have done the same?”

Elsa nods rapidly into Iduna’s shoulder. “Of course, Mama!” Her muffled squeaks sound almost indignant, and Iduna laughs and wonders how she managed to have two such amazing daughters.

But then Elsa pulls away and averts her gaze once more. “But - it still would’ve been my fault if she did get hurt, though.”

“Elsa.” Iduna moves Elsa’s chin until their eyes meet. “It was an _accident_. Please don’t blame yourself for every small thing. No would’ves or could’ves; Anna’s _fine_ , and so are you, and that’s all that matters.”

Nodding slowly, Elsa repeats, “Anna’s fine, and that’s all that matters.”

“You’re _both_ fine,” Iduna corrects, and frowns as Elsa simply nods again in response. There’s a brief glimpse of _something_ in Elsa’s eyes, and Iduna worries that maybe Elsa isn’t as truthful as she’d initially believed. But then the something passes, and Elsa grabs Iduna’s hand and smiles, and Iduna wonders if she’d imagined it all along.

“Well,” Iduna adds, and Elsa glances up at her mother suspiciously, “you’re fine until we tell Olina exactly what you two were up to.”

“ _Mama, I said don’t tell anyone_!”

Throwing her head back and cackling, Iduna hikes her dress up and starts to sprint down the halls, shouting, “I never promised!”

With a rather irate seven year old on her heels, Iduna smiles wide, picks up her pace, and thanks the spirits a thousandth time for the gift that is her two girls.

\---

When Elsa thumps to the floor, panting, limbs trembling from exertion, she wishes that Anna was here to catch her the way she’s always had a habit of doing; instead, Elsa’s caught by rigid ice, and she’s starting to regain a little of that old loathing towards the frozen water that she’d grown up with.

Sighing, she shuffles, putting her legs out in front of her and leaning back onto her arms, head tilted toward that distant door that remains stubbornly out of reach.

She’s tried just about everything she can think of to summon her powers, every conceivable avenue of magic ice generation, and all she has to show for it are empty palms and an exhausted body. She’s tried innumerable hand gestures to no avail; she’s tried some rather absurd footwork patterns that maybe resulted in one or two embarrassing tumbles, but nothing else; she’s even tried _sneezing_ , a desperate act to summon snowgies that doesn’t produce a single snowflake.

Suffice it to say, Elsa is exhausted of ideas, and just plain _exhausted_.

Because for all that she’s managed to get absolutely nowhere, she still feels her magic deep inside her, still feels a familiar pull beneath her skin; but where once its presence was near overwhelming, now, Elsa can barely feel it at all. It’s so...distant. And for the life of her, Elsa can’t figure out _why_.

Running fingers through her tousled hair - a look so distinctly unqueenlike, un- _Elsa_ , that it would surely have Anna snorting with laughter - Elsa heaves what must be her hundredth sigh since being thawed, and tilts her head back until she’s staring directly at where she _assumes_ the ceiling is, not that she can confirm anything with the sprawling darkness enveloping her and her icy island platform.

For as many odd ideas and odder positions that Elsa’s come up with to force her magic out, her well of theories for _why_ her powers aren’t responding is bone-dry.

It just doesn’t make any _sense_.

Never in her life, or at least as far back as she can remember, has Elsa ever felt disconnected from her powers. They’ve been a part of her from girlhood to present-day, have shaped her entire life in good ways and bad. Even when she’d wished for nothing but to be _rid_ of her powers, during those many loathsome years in a self-inflicted prison, they’d persisted.

So now, after finally making peace with her powers, after getting the chance to wield them with purpose and drive the past three years, it’s utterly baffling that they’re just... _gone_. Well, not _gone_ , Elsa corrects herself, but so far out of reach and so utterly unusable that they might as well be.

And without them, Elsa feels...weird.

Incomplete.

For as much as she spent her childhood wishing for this exact thing, to have it finally happen to her is unsettling; bewildering; and, of all things:

 _Chilling_.

\---

There’s a nip of winter’s frost in the morning air as Kristoff ducks through a staff door and beelines straight for the barn. He trudges with his head down, and occasionally reaches a hand up to readjust the collar of the old wool jacket he’d salvaged from castle stores in the attic. It’s a little too small, and pulls uncomfortably taut around his shoulders, but with half his clothes ruined and the other half needing to be washed and dried in the slow-rising sun, he didn’t exactly have much choice.

A few early-risers nod muted greetings as he passes, and he returns them politely; if he’s a tad quiet and awkward, no one comments. He spots a handful of men and women, folks from in town, with arms full of driftwood, and catches a hint of hushed but lively conversation on the breeze. He makes sure to murmur a gratified “thank you” to any in earshot as he walks by, and receives determined smiles and waves in response.

The sun’s barely risen by the time he ducks into the barn. Dappled light filters through splintered wood and walls, dancing on haystacks and the makeshift enclosures made by helping hands the evening prior. Moving past slumbering horses, Kristoff approaches the one open barn stall and sits with a heavy thud on the hay bale next to Sven.

Sven grunts, and immediately goes in to nuzzle Kristoff, who chuckles and playfully pushes him off, saying, “Yeah, yeah, I missed you too.”

Huffing, Sven butts his head gently against Kristoff’s shoulders, then cheekily attempts a bite at Kristoff’s collar.

“Whoa-ho, I don’t think so,” Kristoff scolds, wagging a finger in Sven’s face.

“But you’re the one who started it!” Sven ‘says’, nodding along with Kristoff’s voice.

“I guess that’s fair.” Kristoff’s voice pitches back to normal, and he pulls Sven in close, reaching his arm around the reindeer’s neck in a goofy hug that resembles a headlock. “Well, it’s a good thing I have the perfect apology present.”

Reaching into his pocket, Kristoff’s barely pulled out the carrot before Sven’s eagerly scooped it up, munching immediately and snorting in pleasure. Kristoff ruffles the fur on Sven’s neck as he chews, then sighs.

Sven’s mouth slows its movement and he tilts his head. He gently slides a slobbery piece of carrot back through his teeth, and Kristoff smiles. “Nah, it’s all yours buddy, don’t worry about me.”

The carrot’s promptly sucked back in, and Sven continues to crunch as Kristoff pats Sven absentmindedly. “I’m more worried about Anna,” Kristoff admits. He stares across the barn to the slats of wood still in place. “Things have been...hard.”

A low whine vibrates in Sven’s throat. The reindeer swallows and presses himself closer to Kristoff.

“Anna’s strong!” Sven ‘argues’. “She’s already been through a lot, and she’s proven how tough she is.”

“While that’s true, I just - I can’t - I can’t help but worry, and I just want to help her in general, but she’s not - “

Sven ‘states’, “You think she might be shutting you out.”

Slumping, Kristoff retorts, “I mean, it’s clearly a habit they both have!” He grimaces. “Had? Have had? Ugh.” Kristoff buries his face in Sven’s fur. “Elsa would know,” he mutters, voice muffled.

“But yeah,” Kristoff continues, “I’m worried - no, I’m _scared_ that she might be starting to shut me out. You didn’t see her last night, she - she was shutting me out already, actually, but she’s just - Sven, she’s in _pain_. Wha - what do I _do_ about that? How do I help her, how do I make her feel better, how _can_ she feel better? _Her sister died!_ ”

Kristoff hiccups, inhales reindeer fur, and recoils. He sputters, runs a hand over his mouth, then blinks. Reaching out, he pats Sven to find the brown fur damp and warm, then reaches up to touch his own face again and pulls his hand away wet.

Sven brays, a quiet, keening noise that rumbles through both their chests, and Sven’s eyes are filled with a sorrow that’s leaking from Kristoff’s own.

“Elsa _died_ , Sven, and _Olaf_ , and I _miss them_ , buddy.” Kristoff’s breath hitches. “I miss them so much. And everything’s destroyed, and people have lost much, and they’re all looking to Anna and also to me - to _me_ \- to help, and all I can think is how much better Elsa could handle this, but she’s not _here_ , and _that’s the worst part of it_.”

Sniffling, Kristoff hides his face once more. “Watching Anna get frozen was the worst moment of my life, and I’d only just met her. And it felt like forever but then it was _over_. And I thought I’d never have to worry about that ever again, but then she almost fell off the dam, and I was so scared it was gonna happen all over again.” Kristoff takes a shuddering breath. “And then I thought, well, as scary as both those moments were, they _ended_. But this - this isn’t gonna end, is it?”

Sven brays once more.

“And it’s already so bad for _me_ , I can’t even begin to think of what it’s like for _Anna_. But I’m just - I’m just _me_ , and I want to help her so badly but nothing I’ve tried works; I don’t know what to say, I don’t know what to do, and she’s suffering and I _can’t do anything about it._ ”

Kristoff bunches his fingers in Sven’s fur, and the faint sound of sobbing doesn’t leave the barn.

\---

It hits Elsa, sometime after her twentieth failed escape attempt, that she can’t feel a connection to Olaf.

Frowning, she lowers her hands and rocks back on her heels. She closes her eyes, concentrates on reaching for the internal tether that’s been a constant for her the past three years, and grasps only emptiness.

Elsa bites her lip.

It makes sense, of course, that she can’t feel Olaf. It makes perfect sense. Her powers are clearly diminished, so it’s only natural that her connection to Olaf is diminished as well.

Except -

This feels...different.

That is to say, she doesn’t feel as if the connection is far away and distant. It’s mostly that - she can’t feel a connection _at all_.

Wringing her hands together, Elsa shakes her head and shuts her eyes and berates her own line of thinking. The thought that she can’t feel Olaf is preposterous. It’s simply a matter of her powers being drained, that’s all there is to it.

Elsa opens her eyes and resolutely lifts her chin. She’s reading too much into the matter, (a habit she’d thought she’d finally broken) and that’s that.

And really, she has much more pressing concerns than imaginary fears.

As she readies herself for another round of magic trials, she reaches one last time for her link to Olaf, and is met once more with nothing.

\---

Lieutenant Mattias is amazed at how seamlessly Arendelle’s guard welcomes him back into their fold (with his same rank and everything!), their captain most welcoming of all. Captain Sabbe Sorenson is an impressive man, tall and sturdily built, with close-cropped brown hair and twinkling eyes that betray a jovial personality under his strict appearance, as well as a face that oddly reminds Mattias of the Northuldra. He was quick to take advantage of Mattias’ assistance, and Mattias would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little in awe and a little grateful. (Mattias isn’t quite sure what he would’ve done if he’d arrived back only to be told to stand to the side and let others do the work he knows by heart.)

That work right now, however, is less focused on guarding and more on leading and supporting. Mattias watches with keen eyes as Sorenson directs his guards, Mattias’ guards, and scores of eager townsfolk with various tasks, trying to determine where everyone is most needed and how best to utilize those available. Whenever Sorenson pauses, the princess at his side will chime in with her own ideas, and the two work in tandem seamlessly.

Mattias nods a little in approval as he watches the courtyard bustling; it seems as if just about everyone in Arendelle is willing to lend their hands, from the eldest elderly to the tiniest children; even the Northuldra, who by all accounts could’ve left and returned to their homes, duties fulfilled, are pitching in, and though a couple of folk seem wary, most are quick to trust and accept the help graciously. (Mattias wishes he hadn’t been such a hard-headed fool all those years, getting into pointless arguments with Yelana, but he thinks, with all this rebuilding sentiment going around, he’ll try to build a new beginning for himself, too.)

The trolls are _not_ among those helping, surprisingly. They hadn’t bothered to accompany Arendelle’s townsfolk back down to the harbor yesterday, instead curling up into stone balls and rolling off into the hillside. He supposes it makes sense, though, what with them being, well, trolls, and having already spent more time around humans the past few days than in the last century. Strange little fellows, really. Mattias thinks he should’ve been more surprised by them, but when he’s spent a few decades in the Enchanted Forest, well - he’s gotten used to some pretty odd things.

Mattias is drawn from his thoughts by one of his own guards from the Enchanted Forest. “Sir! I was assigned by the captain to assist in moving debris, but you know better than anyone, sir, about my skill in carpentry. I feel I’d be far more useful rebuilding the docks.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Mattias responds, “I’ll let the captain know. Now hup to it!”

The guard bows and hurries off, and there’s a hum of approval from over Mattias’ shoulders. Turning, Mattias faces a smiling Sorenson. “I see you haven’t lost your touch.”

“Oh-ho, seen me in action, have you?”

“You know,” Sorenson comments, “I used to be jealous of King - well, prince - Agnarr.”

Raising an eyebrow, Mattias says, “Oh yeah?”

“Yep. Watched you guard him and train him every morning for a week, until my father caught me and about tanned my hide for sneaking onto castle grounds. He was so scared for the next _month_ , thinking a whole platoon of guards would show up in the middle of the night to escort my family away. I kept lying, saying the guards knew I was there the whole time and it was perfectly allowed, and eventually, after no one came, he bought it.”

Mattias throws back his head and laughs, full-bellied. “Oh, you were _that_ whelp, huh? Lad, every time you ‘snuck’ in, you crashed through the bushes like a herd of reindeer.”

“Ah. Well that answers that question.” Sorenson rubs the back of his neck and flushes, looking every bit the scolded young child, his clean-shaven face adding to the youthful look.

“You were a nuisance, because everytime we finished training, the prince would ask about playing with ‘the boy in the bushes’. But,” Mattias continues, eyes sparkling, “I knew anyone with that kind of gumption would make a damn fine guard. I’m just sorry I never got the chance to train you myself.”

“I learned a lot in that week, and you inspired me every step of the way when I grew older. As embarrassing as it is to admit, I saw you standing tall and proud as the prince’s royal guard one day, and that was it. I knew exactly what I wanted to be, and you inspired me every day since.”

“Now lad, you’re going to make _me_ embarrassed, so enough! We’ve got work to do! And I know things can’t have changed that much since I was gone - except for your uniform, apparently, what is _up_ with your gloves?” Mattias points to the intricate red and blue gloves Sorenson wears, a contrast to the dull green of the guard uniform.

“A gift from my mother, meant to honor her people, just as the rest of this uniform honors my father’s. Now, as you were saying, we’ve got work to do, which means - “

“Which means it’s time for us to stop talking and start walking,” Mattias finishes, laughing again and clapping Sorenson on the back.

And so the day passes, hard work blurring the hours until lunch, when Kai and Gerda call for a mandatory break for everyone to come inside the castle and eat, and good conversation and a chance meeting with Halima (who is still _stunning_ ) blurring the next hour for Mattias in particular.

Then it’s back to work, and while Mattias commands his own crew, he also can’t help but note with pride just how well Anna and Kristoff are taking charge. He’d expected the ice harvester to be a bit bumbling, if Mattias is honest with himself, but apart from a few stutters or awkward pauses, Kristoff has taken over leading construction crews with aplomb.

Anna, well - Anna looks like Agnarr, and she acts like him too, or at least, like the king Mattias always knew Agnarr would become. She’s steadfast and strong in a sea of uncertainty, and Mattias’ll be damned if he doesn’t admit he feels his chest swell in pride while watching her.

Sleeves rolled up and hair pinned back, Anna’s been just as much in the thick of things as everyone else, and though she’s stopped often for questions and guidance, Mattias can see the sweat on her brow and dirt smudges on her arms that indicate nothing but hard work. She’s on her way to the docks, he assumes, with Kristoff by her side, when she’s stopped by a short, older fellow in robes, and - wait, is that the same bishop from before Mattias was trapped?

The bishop bows respectfully to Anna, and nods his head to Kristoff, and begins to speak. The three of them are across the courtyard, far too far away for Mattias to catch any of what’s being said, but he watches intently, setting down the wood in his arms and brushing off his shirt, but never taking his eyes away.

While the bishop’s facing away, Mattias can see Anna and Kristoff clearly, and as the bishop talks, he watches Anna’s face harden, from open and approachable to closed and aloof in the blink of an eye. She holds up a hand to cut the bishop off, and says something that causes the bishop and Kristoff to flinch, her expression harsh.

Kristoff starts to speak, but Anna whirls around, and though Kristoff reaches out for her, he’s not fast enough. She walks briskly back to the castle while he stands with his arm outstretched. Then he slowly lowers his arm, nods to the bishop, and moves to follow Anna inside. A citizen stops him almost instantly with a question, and he looks torn.

In a few great strides, Mattias has crossed the courtyard. “I’ve got this,” he says, and Kristoff’s shoulders droop in relief.

“Thank you.” Kristoff’s voice is layered with exhaustion, and Mattias angles his head at the castle. Kristoff takes the cue and rushes off, and Mattias starts to wonder if there’s more than just physical reconstruction that needs, well, reconstructing.

(He wonders if Agnarr reacted as Anna does now, faced with the sudden death of a family member and the sudden anticipation of an unwanted crown.)

Turning, Mattias looks at the citizen. “Now then, how can I assist you?”

\---

She should be hungry.

She should be thirsty.

She should be dealing with an embarrassingly overwhelming urge to relieve herself.

And most importantly, as she lays on the ice with her eyes squeezed shut, she should be _sleeping_.

Elsa should be _sleeping_ , because every muscle in her body is screaming with exhaustion; her joints ache, her limbs feel numb, and her spine is twinging in pain at the awful resting place she’s been forced into. (She’d tried to make a snowdrift, just a small one, to act as a bed cushion, but no luck.)

But despite all the discomfort, the heaviness in her eyes is a surefire indicator that she should be _asleep_.

Then why is she still awake?

Elsa’s thoughts are racing with rapidfire questions, a potential contributor to her lack of sleep, but as time has passed, she’s also come to realize a few things that _don’t make sense_.

Why _isn’t_ she hungry?

Why _isn’t_ she thirsty?

Why _can’t_ she fall asleep?

How _long_ has she been trying to fall asleep?

How _long_ has she been trapped in Ahtohallan?

…

How long has it been since she last saw Anna?

_“Wait, what? What are you doing? ELSA!”_

Elsa groans, pulls her cape in around her like a blanket, flops one arm over her face, and reaches again for elusive slumber.

\---

Ryder’s never been the type to sit still, and though the past couple of days have been an absolute whirlwind of activity and change, that’s one thing that’s stayed very much the same. Honeymaren and Yelana are deep in conversation, discussing probably important matters, but really, Ryder’s far too distracted by, well, everything.

The sky! The sea! The people! (How people who actually grew up with sunlight are paler than him makes _no sense_ , but hey, he’s not judging.) The castle! The town! The ships! The absolute insane destruction and debris! Which isn’t a good thing at all, but is still very distracting!

“Ryder.”

He’d barely had a chance to take in anything last night, what with focusing on getting everyone settled back in. He and Honeymaren had sat out of the actual castle assembly the day before, anxious of intruding, but they’d popped back in after the meeting was done and found themselves swept up in aiding the castle staff. They’d set up bedding all over the floor for the displaced families who were seeking refuge, and though the staff had offered room for Honeymaren and him as well, they’d taken only a couple of blankets and retreated to the courtyard, to sleep under the stars. (Stars! _Stars!_ )

“Ryder.”

Not that Ryder _could_ sleep, laying under all those beautiful twinkling lights. It was only through trying to find all the constellations he’d heard stories of, and realizing that he had absolutely no idea where to begin, that he’d passed out at long last, sleep coming quickly as soon as he was willing to give in. But then he got to wake up to the morning _sun!_ And with a new day, there was so much new to explore, except now he’s stuck standing here and listening to -

“ _Ryder!_ ” Honeymaren snaps, waving her hand in his face.

“Wha-huh-yes! I’m listening!”

Honeymaren and Yelana look unconvinced, and Ryder grins sheepishly.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Honeymaren says, “Yelana’s been talking a lot with the guard captain, uh, Sorenson, I think, and he wants us to give him an overview of how best to utilize our aid.”

“Now?” Ryder cocks his head. “I thought we were supposed to just do our own thing, since he hasn’t talked to us all day.”

Yelana answers, “He’s been busy, and I stole his attention away first. I wanted to let him know that while we’re willing to help for another day or two, I and others must be getting back to our people.” Before Ryder can protest, Yelana raises a hand and adds, “Anyone who still wishes to stay is welcome to, but I can’t spare quite so many people for quite so long. There’s still our own livelihoods to take care of back home, and the young captain was very understanding.”

“Young?” whispers Honeymaren.

“To Yelana, I guess,” Ryder snickers.

The duo straightens up instantly as Yelana clears her throat and glares.

“As I was saying, I need to be leaving in the next day or two, and I’ll be taking most of the others with me. You two, however, are more than welcome to stay as long as you want, and so is anyone else. But if you’re going to stay, there’s no point in sitting idle when all of these people are hardly slacking. So go to Sorenson, tell him what you’re both best at, and help show Anna and Elsa’s people how thankful we are.”

“Aye aye.” Ryder drops his voice and gives a mocking version of Mattias’ salute.

Honeymaren rolls her eyes, thanks Yelana, and drags Ryder away. He yelps a bit, struggling in her grasp before pouting until she releases her grip on his collar.

The two of them find Sorenson easily enough, tall as the man is, and approach for instructions. Honeymaren opens her mouth to speak when Ryder blurts out, “Whoa, are those gloves Sámi?”

Sorenson blinks, startled. He fiddles with his gloves, one hand tracing over a detailed pattern on the other. “I - yes, they are. My mother made them from an old gákti we could no longer use. You two are from the Northuldra group, yes?”

Ryder and Honeymaren nod.

Face splitting into a smile, Sorenson says, “I may need to visit your land someday. I believe I might have a couple of long-lost cousins in your number. Now, to business.”

Sorenson is, thankfully, brief, first with his questions to get a feel for where Ryder and Honeymaren are most comfortable, and then with his ideas of assignments where they will work best. Honeymaren does most of the talking, already knowing Ryder’s responses and taking charge for both of them.

It’s agreed swiftly that Honeymaren and Ryder will work with the local shepherds to ensure the livestock have enough food stored away for the winter, and also that all livestock are present and accounted for. Honestly, Ryder’s happy with any work involving hooved animals, so even though there’ll be more horses than reindeer, he’s not too worried.

They’re to stay in the castle grounds for the day before moving out into the fields tomorrow, and Sorenson sends them to meet up with the Westens, a family of amiable goat herders. Within minutes, the two have their hands full, and Ryder does his best to pay attention, even if his gaze does stray frequently to the goats walking past him.

And then it’s a whirlwind of even more introductions, and even more instructions, and it’s frankly overwhelming, but it’s also all just so _new_ , and after a lifetime of familiar surroundings, it’s a welcome breath of fresh air. The Arendellians are all so nice, too, and Ryder wears a broad grin as he greets everyone.

Well, most of them are nice. Ryder does note a couple times, as the Westens are droning on and on about plans, that there are a couple of people shooting a glare or two at him and Honeymaren, which is kind of super odd, but hey, times are weird, maybe it’s a coping mechanism for the flood damage, Ryder’s not gonna judge. _Or_ they could just really hate goats.

Either way, Ryder’s eager to get helping, and he’s eager to continue to see more of Arendelle, and more of _everywhere_.

Ryder tucks his hat into his pocket, because the afternoon sun is starting to feel a bit hot, and he waits in anticipation for whatever new thing he’ll stumble across next.

\---

Every inch of Elsa is trembling, not from the cold but from a sudden, icy terror that washes over her and envelopes every fiber of her being.

There’s no escaping from Ahtohallan, is there?

Her breath hitches, and she blinks rapidly to fight back the urge to cry, to let tears slip down her cheeks and freeze on the floor. The wave of fear washes over her again and again, rough and relentless like those that break upon the Dark Sea’s shore. In a sense, as she struggles to breathe, as her heart flutters and her chest heaves rapidly up and down, Elsa wonders if this was the drowning referenced in the haunting lullaby of this very place.

No matter what she tries, what she does, she cannot get her magic to _work_ , and that one single exit remains high out of reach, taunting and mocking with its subtle glow, a twisted cruelty masquerading as a beacon of hope. Around her is silence, broken only by her halting gasps, and beyond that is the infuriatingly endless darkness. She feels claustrophobic in its embrace, as trapped and confined in a cell here as she was in her bedroom all those years.

Shivering, Elsa stares at her shaking hands and curls her shaking fingers into two feeble, shaking fists. She stares and stares and stares, and time passes but maybe it doesn’t, because she has no idea of how long she’s been here, how long she’ll _be_ here. There’s no way to tell, not even with signs from her body, because she appears to be in stasis - she appears to be _frozen_. From a frozen in place statue to a frozen in place prisoner, drowning in her thoughts and her unchanging environment.

How much of this is even _real_?

Elsa takes her shaking fists and _slams_ them into the floor.

And finally, the first change in her surroundings since she’s been here: a few spatters of red decorate the ice.

And the first change in her body as well: _pain_.

Sharp and sudden, it jolts Elsa from her panic and focuses her mind instead on the now pulsing ache in her knuckles, and the smarting sting of splits across her skin.

Elsa groans, regretting her actions immediately, but as she lifts her hands and holds them tenderly in the air, her eyes widen when she observes their steadiness, and she blinks at the clarity trickling through her mind.

With that clarity comes a realization: yes, she’s trapped, and yes, she’s frozen in some sort of mysterious stasis (though the hows and whys of that remain as of yet unknown), and yes, she’s currently unable to free herself, through magical means or otherwise, but in the midst of her panic, she’d forgotten the one variable that she _knows_ can save her:

 _Anna_.

Slowly standing to her feet, Elsa wobbles a bit before catching herself, and she nods and murmurs aloud, “Anna.” Through everything, from Elsa’s earliest memories to the fjord three years ago to the moment they parted, Anna’s been there to catch Elsa, to support Elsa, to _save_ Elsa.

“Anna will save me.”

Hope blossoms anew in Elsa, and she straightens her back and rolls her shoulders and flexes her hands, because she knows that no matter what, as long as Anna knows Elsa’s out there, Anna will do everything in her power to rescue Elsa; in the meantime, Elsa doesn’t intend to sit idly by.

With far less urgency and far more focus, she takes a deep breath and reaches once more for her magic.

_Anna will save me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, for those folks who are still around after all this time, thank you guys again for your patience, and I hope you enjoyed! This is a bit of a slower chapter, but it's seeding a lot of stuff for upcoming Plot, so I promise there's a pay-off to all this. For everyone who's commented, you guys are all absolutely amazing, and I really can't stress enough how much each and every comment means to me.
> 
> Anyway, as always, thanks again for reading, and I hope to see you all in the next chapter! I can also be found on tumblr as [arendellesfirstwinter](https://arendellesfirstwinter.tumblr.com/) if you've got any questions, or just want to chat about Frozen! (Or want to check out any SUPER old fics, back from when I was posting not long after the first movie's release. I've yet to upload any of those to ao3, so there's a pretty decent [backlog](https://arendellesfirstwinter.tumblr.com/frozenfanfics) of them on my tumblr!)


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